The Poem Before Christmas
by mat528
Summary: Buffy composes a poem to Spike in her Italian apartment on the anniversary of his sacrifice in the cave beneath the remains of Sunnydale.


THE POEM BEFORE CHRISTMAS

**A/N: This story was just a short holiday story I thought about that I wanted to write. It's another "Spuffy" set after the events of "Chosen". An AU tale. Please read and review.**

**Disclaimer: aww, c'mon now…if I owned any publically recognizable characters from BTVS, I would be writing the series on TV or in the movies! It still all is Joss's (but if someone gave me Spike as a Christmas present I wouldn't object.)**

Buffy said goodbye to Jack the Immortal as he boarded his plane that evening for Portugal. She realized that she wasn't looking forward to his coming back anytime soon. True, Jack had satisfied a sexual need Buffy had, but she knew as well as he did that they didn't have a loving relationship.

_He's probably messing with someone in Portugal…_she thought, not feeling even the slightest bit of jealousy. The elder Slayer really didn't care what the Immortal did anymore.

He had been gone only about an hour when the Slayer walked outside when she'd arrived home to the fountain that sparkled in the Piaza de Forturo. She thought just then about how jealous she'd been about Spike and Anya the one time they had been together. She'd tried her best to deny it, but the green eyed monster took hold of Buffy so hard it was a wonder she'd let the former vengeance demon walk.

Even before Anya had sex with her vampire, Buffy had also been jealous of Drusilla two years before. She had chocked up her feelings to stress, or just simple momentary lust in the aftermath of Willow's will be done spell. But when she decided to be introspective on one of several rare occasions, Buffy knew that the possessiveness she'd felt for Spike wasn't going to go away any time soon, and in typical fashion, she ran from those emotions by blaming him for them whenever they were together.

When she'd been on the bus after Sunnydale had been swallowed up by the Hellmouth, the oldest Slayer had plenty of time to examine the feelings about the master vampire that she'd kept cloaked away. She knew then that when she had told him that she loved him, Buffy really _did _care about him in all the ways that counted. He was her best friend, her greatest sexual partner, her confidante, her _everything._

_And you pissed it all away, _she told herself bitterly. _And, he's never coming back._

She knew after the mess she'd made not only of her life but of his unlife, she had to get away…to escape. It was then that her mind seized on a plan. Going to England weeks later after the Scoobies had split up for the last time, the Slayer had asked Giles to help her out. The Watcher, overcome with guilt at having left the only girl he'd considered a daughter in a lurch, was only too happy to intervene. Buffy outlined her financial plan, explaining that she was not abandoning her calling but just taking a break with her sister, and to do things right, she needed some big money right away.

Giles and the newly forming Watcher's Council decided that, in view of the extraordinary circumstances Buffy had been in (several times in fact as she saved the world), she was due some serious retroactive pay, and to that end, they initiated the Slayer Salary Program to not only pay her, but all the other Slayers as well.

Her money in hand a month later, Buffy had decided upon returning from the UK that she and Dawn needed to get away from California as quickly as possible. The Slayer didn't want to stay in England however, partly because she didn't want to have Giles and the Council interfering in her life, and mostly because the UK made her think about Spike too much. The situation in Italy had been ideal at first. Buffy had made herself a new home that was certainly far enough away when Dawn had started attending college and the oldest Slayer had set up a makeshift training program for other Slayers and the emerging male Slayers.

Angel had even come by sometimes to help with the training, and Buffy found that they'd both moved on with their lives quite well. But the vampire could tell even when she didn't say anything that her thoughts were preoccupied with Spike. It was obvious to him that his long time ex girlfriend was using him as a replacement for his grandchilde. It showed in the way she fought Angel, and in some of the things she'd said.

Although Angel still felt jealous whenever she compared one of his moves to one of Spike's, he didn't let on. His conscience told him that she needed to vent, and besides, he didn't dare give away any hints about his grandson being alive. Angel knew that the best thing for both of them was to put their pasts behind them. When he returned to LA to continue his life as a Demon Lord, he let Spike continue his life as the Demon Lord of Beverly Hills by not even telling the platinum blond vampire that Angel had run into Buffy. Spike had an unlife with Illyria by his side, and that was that, Angel decided, even if he could sense his grandchilde's restlessness and unhappiness.

XXXXXXXXXXX

In Rome, a very unhappy Buffy walked toward the fountain in the square in front of the apartment building in which she lived. During the three years that Spike had been dead, she had been going through the motions a second time: slaying vampires; hooking up with her friends via the Internet to find out information about any Big Bads; training other Slayers, and being a boss to Andrew and other operatives who now worked for her. She'd been perfunctory in her sex with Jack, not bothering to pay the handsome demon any mind as they banged each other.

She thought often about the man who had been the light of her life, although she had treated Spike as anything _but_ when he'd been there. Buffy felt guilt consume her again as she did on this, the anniversary of Spike's death, more than any other night. What hurt the most was that he died without ever having known how much she really loved him. What also hurt was that Spike had died on Christmas Eve, the one time of the year that was known for having someone close to you and family to celebrate with.

At least, with Dawn, Buffy thought wryly, she had half of that equation.

As the Elder Slayer saw the water twinkling when it fell down into the base of the fountain, Buffy wished that she could show Spike this special place. Many Italians called it the _Fontana di amore eterno, _particularly at this time of year. Couples often cuddled, held hands, and whispered words of eternal love to each other. Tonight had been no exception. Several men and women, young and old, were in high spirits as they smiled and cooed and gazed wonderingly into each others' eyes and at the stars above. Buffy let loose a silent wish that night, the one that she had constantly wanted granted every evening since her vampire had died.

"I thought I'd find you here," Dawn's chipper voice said after the older Summers was done. She stood beside Buffy and watched the water dancing.

"I was just…thinking," Buffy said wistfully.

"You've been doing that a lot," Dawn observed. "Got any deep thoughts?"

"No," Buffy said. Her younger sister grabbed the Slayer's hand and squeezed it.

"Aww c'mon, you can tell me," Dawn encouraged. "It's about Spike, isn't it?"

Buffy looked over at her very perceptive sister. "What makes you think that?" she asked. Dawn stared at Buffy, then she shook her head.

"I've seen you with your boy toy," she said, "and it looks to me like your body's there, but your heart and mind are somewhere else. You're tuning into the Spike channel big time, and I don't mean the American cable station."

Buffy knew that she couldn't keep anything from her baby sister for long. Too bad Dawn was studying Psychology at the University of Rome. It made her too clued in to her older sister's inner thoughts _way_ too much! That was definitely not of the good.

After a beat, Dawn suggested, "Why don't you write a poem to him?" Now it was Buffy's turn to stare.

"That was _his _department, not mine," Buffy protested. "Poetry and me are so unmixy."

"Uh, huh…" Dawn said slowly. "Well, in class today, we learned that writing something like a poem is very therapeutic. You don't have to even show it to anyone!"

"Dawnie, come on!" Buffy chided. "I mean, _me _write a _poem?_"

She walked back to her apartment building just then. Her sister followed, and together they entered the elevator.

Dawn pushed the button as Buffy considered her words. Should she write poetry to the vampire she now knew she loved? And, if she did, what would she say? Worse yet, what if the poem was total crap? She would never live that down, even if another soul never read it.

Both sisters exited on the fourth floor a moment later and walked down the corridor to Buffy's apartment.

"I don't know, Dawnie," Buffy said with a weaker voice, "I am _so _not Shakespeare."

"So what?" Dawn countered. "Neither was he, and he wrote to you every night, sheets and sheets." Buffy blinked at that. Spike had written poems about her? _But surely_, she thought, _they must be about sex. It's not like he'd write any touchy feely stuff…woah, there, Buffy with the touch and feel reference! _

Dawn pulled a sheet of paper out of her pocket just then and handed it to her big sister. Buffy took the paper, studying its elegant handwriting. Part of it was about how Spike hated wanting her so much, but the other part was what touched the Elder Slayer just then. It was about a man who desperately loved his woman with every fiber of his being, and not at all like something the brash vampire would compose.

"He said he wanted you to have it," she explained. "He was gonna give it to you that night, but…well, you know." Dawn bowed her head and looked away so that Buffy wouldn't see her sister's tears.

The older Summers went over to her desk and pulled out a pad. "Dawn, give me a moment, huh?" Buffy requested, fishing out a pen. "I've gotta do this alone."

Dawn told her, "I'll be back in an hour." The dark haired Summers woman went out and left the Slayer with her thoughts.

For the first ten minutes, Buffy stared at the empty sheet of paper. Then, she put pen to pad and began to write.

_A love like ours was the most real,_

_though I never gave us a chance to deal._

_If I could gain my heart's desire, I'd have you here, _

_Looking at me, seeing me, with the eyes of a child, _

_but with the soul of a man. _

_If I could seal our cares away, and _

_We didn't have to fight another day, _

_I'd show you what I truly feel, and give us both_

_a chance to deal._

_You touched my heart; you touched my mind,_

_and with you now is my soul entwined_

_I ask you William, my heart to keep_

_forever with your love so deep._

_I claim our love; I say it's real,_

_and if you return,_

_I know I'll deal. _

Unable to think of anything else to write about, Buffy placed the poem inside a book that she kept hidden inside a strong box in the bottom of her suitcase. She hoped Dawn didn't know where the book was. Although she thought her only attempt at poetry was okay, Buffy had to admit, she was a little embarrassed. She certainly would be if anyone heard the poem. She suddenly realized how Spike felt on that fateful night that he had read his poem of devotion to Cecily Addams and everyone had laughed and ridiculed him.

Buffy removed the poem a moment later from its hiding place. She wanted to keep it close by, especially on this night. Spying the drawer she'd removed the pad from, the Elder Slayer placed it in an envelope in the back of a book about Shakespeare that she knew Dawn probably wouldn't read and put it in her desk drawer.

Her cell phone rang suddenly. Buffy jumped, but answered it a moment later. "Hello?" she asked.

"Hey," Dawn said. "I've gotta ask a big favor. I ran into a friend in the square and wanted to know if I could bring him home for dinner."

Buffy wasn't sure how to respond since she really wasn't up for visitors right now but she also didn't want to hurt her sister's feelings. "Is he a boyfriend?" Buffy asked. "Is he human?"

"Geez, Buffy!" Dawn protested. "I wouldn't bring someone home who wasn't gonna pass with you!" When her big sister didn't respond, the younger Summers girl rolled her blue eyes.

"No, he's not a boyfriend, and that's all you're gonna get from me until we come home," she told Buffy over the phone.

"Dawnie, I really don't want anybody having dinner here besides us…" Buffy started saying. She stopped, telling herself yet again that she didn't want to be rude, at least not during the holidays.

"Is he someone I know?" she asked into the phone. Dawn didn't miss a beat.

"His name is Guillermo," she said, "and you might have seen him around."

_Vague much? _Buffy thought. Aloud, she said, "Okay. You can bring him. But I don't know if he can stay long. I want to patrol early tonight. I'll start dinner. Hope he likes spaghetti."

"He'll love it!" Dawn said, hanging up.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Buffy tasted the tomato sauce and added a pinch of salt to it as she wiped her hands on the apron she wore. She had just put out three plates and the garlic bread, along with some grated parmesan cheese and some oregano on the dining room table. The Slayer had also lit some red Christmas candles and placed them on each end. As the woodsy fragrance drifted into the room, Buffy went into the bedroom and changed into a casual outfit, complete with indigo jeans and a brown colored tank top.

She heard Dawn open the door a moment later and went into the connecting bathroom to brush her hair. The Slayer wondered suddenly what she'd do if it was Spike her sister had brought home.

_Yeah, right, and the moon really is a green cheesy thing, _she thought wryly.

Still, when she'd been outside by the fountain, she made a wish as she'd looked at the clear water. She had wished for the vampire she wanted to wrap her arms around and kiss more than anything to walk through the front door.

Buffy heard her sister ask her friend inside the apartment, and then, she stopped short as she felt a familiar sensation. The older Summers waved off her Slayer senses. She just _knew _she had to be imagining the conga drum vibrations she felt whenever Spike was near. She went into the bedroom and put on some lipstick.

"Make yourself at home, Guillermo!" Buffy shouted from the bedroom. "Dinner will be ready in a little while."

"No rush," she heard a familiar British male voice say. The blonde went out, pulling down her top as she exited the bedroom and as she looked up at the couch, her jaw hit the floor.

He sat draped along the couch wearing a black long sleeved shirt and brown pants. His platinum hair was illuminated by the moon's light spilling through the window behind him. The necklace he sometimes wore was hanging under his collar. His jewelry shifted slightly when he placed his feet up on the coffee table. Blue eyes, bluer than the deepest ocean, regarded Buffy somewhat cautiously at first, but then the trademark smirk slid into place.

"Say something, luv," he said.

Dawn looked from her sister to her best friend and big brother, wishing that Buffy or Spike would say something else to break the silence. It was at that moment that Buffy remembered that Guillermo was Italian for William. Her eyes flew to her sister's, but she wasn't angry. Dawn could tell that Buffy was cool with this situation, and that Spike and her sister needed to talk.

Pointing in the direction of the kitchen, Dawn said, "You know what…? Salad, and…". She went into the kitchen just then and opened the refrigerator loudly.

"Blood," Dawn was shouting, poking her head inside the refrigerator. She slammed its door and walked out of the kitchen. A moment later, she tugged on her jacket.

"Uh, there's not any blood, so I'll just…find some, okay?" she queried, not waiting for Buffy's response. The door closed with a resounding slam, leaving both Slayer and Master Vampire staring at each other.

"'Ello, kitten," Spike greeted softly.

Buffy's eyes raked over his clothes again. "That's a new look for you," she said finally.

"Yeh, well…when Dawn rang, she insisted I get all dolled up an' whatnot for dinner," he responded.

"Looks good," Buffy began saying, adding, "_you_ look good."

"No doubt about that, is there, luv?" Spike asked. His eyes were blazing a trail over her woman's curves and the way her chest rose and fell.

"Nice to know you still have an ego the size of Brazil," she said.

"Yeh, well, kinda comes with the package, don't it?" Spike asked.

"You said you 'just ran into' Dawn?" Buffy queried. Spike looked down just then as he did whenever the Slayer figured him out.

"Not really…" he confessed. "You know that trip Dawn took to the States to visit Faith and Robin last month in Ohio?"

At Buffy's nod, Spike continued. "She saw me there, catchin' up an' whatnot," he said, watching for his Slayer's reaction. When he couldn't tell what Buffy thought, Spike went on.

"She apologized and begged me to come back with her from Cleveland, so I did," Spike said.

"Oh," Buffy responded. "So…how've you been?" Her eyes stared ahead, darting back and forth, studying the glasses on the table, the silverware, the plates…anything but the vampire who was in front of her.

"'ve been okay," he said. "You?"

"Okay…" Buffy said haltingly. She turned abruptly and went into the kitchen to stir the sauce. Turning off the flame, she was about to place the wooden spoon into the sink when she felt a pair of cool hands removing it from her fingers. Spike put the spoon in the soapy water and spoke from behind, not wanting to send her running from her feelings.

"How's your boyfriend?" he asked, trying to hide his disappointment that she'd taken up with someone else.

"He's…" Buffy started saying to the dishes. She then turned around and scrutinized the blond vampire. "How did you know about Jack?"

"Kinda hard to miss, kitten," Spike commented, his anger and jealousy rising, "when you had been twirlin' and showin' your goods all up in his face!"

Buffy remembered one night at one of the hottest clubs in Italy where she had been dancing and partying so that no one would know how uptight she was. When that didn't work, she had asked Jack to buy them some drinks. Moments later, she didn't have a care in the universe as she wildly gyrated to the pounding music. It was her drink addled Slayer sense that had told her that both Spike and Angel were there, but when she'd gone to investigate, they weren't there. Buffy had chalked that up to her alcohol soaked imagination as she humped the Immortal that night. Her eyes narrowed as she realized something else.

"You mean, that was _real,_ and you've been alive for the _past three years?!_" the Slayer cried, enraged that Spike would keep his existence a secret.

"Yeh, pet, I have," he confessed, not showing the least bit of regret. Buffy kicked him to the marble floor just then.

"What the bloody hell's wrong with you, Slayer?!" Spike yelled. "Are you off your bird?"

The elder Chosen One punched him, albeit once. Spike didn't attack, but his questioning eyes stared at the diminutive blonde.

"Do you know what I went through these past three years without you?" she accused in a low voice as she glared at him from above.

"About as much as _I _went through during the five years both lovin' and not wantin' to see you, Summers?" he bit back. His leg slid out from under him, knocking her to the floor.

"You've got some stones, accusin' _me, _when you broke my unbeatin' heart no' once when you rejected me, but _twice, _when you took up with that refugee from a Pirates of the Carribean flick!" he snarled.

Buffy started to say something, anything to retaliate, but a gentler voice told her Spike was right. He had every cause for anger. Oh, yes, he'd nearly raped her once, but it had been nothing in comparison to the way she had treated him.

"You're right, William," Buffy said in a small voice. "I was wrong; I _did _break your heart, and I'm sorry." Although Spike had heard her, he wanted to be sure that she wasn't just pulling his leg, or that Buffy's apology was just a momentary thing.

"What's that you said?" he asked. She got up and offered her hand to help him, which he promptly declined as he rose.

"I said, I'm sorry," she repeated with more confidence as she gauged his reaction. Spike was measuring her just then, still waiting to see if she would change her mind.

"I'm sorry for everything," she told her vampire. "For using you like a plaything…for not believing that vampires could love, like you and Drusilla said; for not defending you to my friends by telling them what a wonderful man you are!" Spike looked at the tears gathering in her deep, green eyes, and the vampire pulled her to him in a hug. After a long moment, they pulled apart.

"You're my best friend, Spike," Buffy said with conviction, "even more than Willow, or Xander, or all the others. You take me as I am, and you don't treat me like someone who's made of glass, o-or someone who can't handle the tough stuff. You're the only one who's not afraid to call me on it when I'm being bitchy girl, and I didn't appreciate it then, but I understand it and appreciate it now."

A single tear slid down his cheek as Spike said, "Oh, Buffy…you don't know how long 've wanted to hear that."

"About as long as I've been waiting to say it," the elder Slayer said softly. "I know I don't have the right to ask, but please stay. I'd love for you to taste my cooking. It's gotten better in the past few years, and there's more than enough for three."

"No' the way the Bit eats, I reckon," Spike teased. Buffy laughed. Both Slayer and Vampire went into the living room.

"You don't mind spaghetti, do you?" she asked, going into the kitchen a moment later and setting the huge pot on the table on a mitt.

"Sounds good," he said, coming into the kitchen and offering to help her. Buffy waved him off, and Spike sat back down in the living room. While the Slayer busied herself with getting the wine out of the refrigerator, Spike looked around at her homey, cozy apartment. He saw several pictures cluttering up the beige walls; they were of other Slayers and Dawn mostly. Some pictures were of Giles and Willow and the Whelp. Spike regretted that vampires didn't show up in photographs; he would have liked to have shared a pic with Buffy.

The revenant decided that if he could find a throw away camera, though, he could at least snap some pics of Buffy and Dawn. He got up from the couch and, spying the desk with the small drawer in the center of it, rummaged through it to see if maybe one of the Summers ladies had a picture taking device. His long fingers came in contact with a book, which he pulled out.

"Sonnets o' William Shakespeare…" he read, marveling that either Buffy or Dawn would have a book of poetry. It was during his flipping of the pages that Spike saw the envelope. The vampire opened it, and what he saw had him crying again.

Spike read Buffy's poetry, committing each word to memory, cherishing everything her poem said. When he saw the Slayer come out of the kitchen, he held up the poem.

At Buffy's questioning glance, Spike told her, "When did you write this?"

"Tonight," Buffy said, blushing. Spike smiled, his eyes lighting up with happiness.

"'s good, pet," he responded, tucking it into his pocket. He crossed over to the table and took Buffy's hand in his.

"It's just…Dawn said that poems could be therapeutic, and I wanted to write about how I feel about us," she explained. Spike kissed her hand.

"You don't have to, Buffy, luv," he whispered. "It's all right here, an' I couldn't be happier about how you feel." He kissed her softly, a tender brushing of his lips against hers.

Buffy deepened the kiss, saying, "Merry Christmas, Spike" along his lips. "I love you."

Spike kissed Buffy back, telling her, "Merry Christmas, Buffy. I love you, too." They went to the couch and engaged in some more tender snogging just then.

XXXXXXXXXXX

When Dawn let herself into the home she shared with her sister two hours later, a fresh quart of blood in her hand, she wasn't surprised as she glanced out of the window to find two lovers, a vampire with a soul and a Slayer who she was proud to call her sister, walking by the fountain in the square and whispering words of eternal devotion to each other. After all, the fountain was the mystic fountain of forever.

"Merry Christmas, guys," Dawn said, helping herself to spaghetti and tomato sauce after putting the blood in the refrigerator.

THE END


End file.
